I wanna be like you
by ButterfliesforHeartbeats
Summary: Sam cuts his hair. Apparently, he has... abnormally large ears. (young Sam and Dean, oneshot)


A/N: I think Sam's about 11 or 12 here, making Dean 14-15, right? Once more, I live for reviews so if it isn't too much trouble, if you have some constructive criticism you'd like to give, if there's something wrong or something I need to change, if you enjoyed it, please let me know! Thanks for taking the time to read :)

* * *

Sam tugged at one end of his hair. He knew it was long, and it flipped up randomly at some edges (especially over his big ears). Dad was constantly on to him about keeping it cut closer, because it was easier, because it was practical, because it was army-ready, because it was dad, but Sam had kept up enough of a fight about it that the man had eventually almost let it drop. He'd let it drop as much as John Winchester ever did, of course.

Dean never seemed to have any issues keeping his short. Dean's was a little choppy, and poky on the sides and messy in the front and Sam liked rubbing it sometimes because it felt funny. Dean didn't really seem to care what his hair did. Not like Sam.

He'd never really worried about it too much (his keeping his hair the way he liked it), but recently he'd started looking at himself and then looking at Dean and thinking about how different they were. Dean was starting to bulk up, because the training that dad was putting them both through was rigorous (and yeah, some of it was fun: Sam liked running a lot). It was effecting Dean, though. His arms started looking more defined, his chest started filling out, he looked more solid and formidable. Sam, on the other hand, was still just a short, chubby dork with a lot of hair. Dad insisted that Sam was just a late bloomer, that he'd get some height on him soon, not to worry about it, maybe if he'd just train a little harder it'd start making a difference, but Sam was convinced he was stuck.

He caught his reflection in the mirror or in windows sometimes and had recently started pulling at his hair self consciously. He was so different from his dad and his brother. How chubby and short he was, apparently would stay the same, but... maybe if he cut his hair he wouldn't stick out like a sore thumb so much? He kept thinking about it, and pulling on his hair, and pushing it back from his face every once in a while when he was alone in the bathroom, until finally he thought he'd come to a decision.

* * *

A few weeks after he'd decided, dad was on a hunt and Dean sent Sam on back to the apartment early while he went out to play baseball with a few of 'the guys', as Dean called them. On the bus and walking the rest of the way, Sam was fidgety and nervous - but in an excited, confusing kind of way.

He got to their one floor, unimpressive but this time not disgusting apartment and threw his backpack and jacket down on the couch before going back to the bathroom. He grabbed scissors from the kitchen along the way and hoped he'd be able to figure out dad's razor (it was electric: dad had bought it when he decided it'd be cheaper than taking himself and Dean to the barber every month). He locked himself into the little room and turned to glare determinedly at his reflection in the mirror.

One more time, he reached up and tugged at the hair above his right ear. He pulled it out from his head and thought it probably went out about two inches at most. Slowly, he took the scissors in his other hand and fumbled with them a little before clumsily chopping the lock up close to his ear. The scissors closed with a snick, and he looked down almost in shock to find part of his hair now loose in his hand. Sam... didn't know how to feel, exactly, and looked up at his reflection. Already, he looked different to himself, but there was a lot to go.

He got to work.

* * *

About twenty minutes later, he had chopped off most of his hair fairly close to his head and he was itching from the pieces that had dropped down into his shirt and across his neck. His ear hurt a little because he had nicked it trying to get the hair around cut closer. He looked back at his reflection - not to see how he looked yet - just to make sure he hadn't missed any big chunks. He knew it was really uneven and looked a little funky, but hopefully the razor would help smooth it out and make it look a little better.

So, he took up the razor that dad had left plugged in and pushed the button. The little machine buzzed quickly and he jerked a little in surprise, but then started in uncertainly. He tried a few times but didn't do something right - the blade, or maybe the level, or maybe the way he was holding it was wrong, so he put the razor down before he hurt himself and picked the scissors back up. By that time he was getting a little worried that he wouldn't be done before Dean got home and he needed to make sure Dean knew he was capable of handling his own hair. So he took the scissors up again and started clipping his hair closer and closer. He wouldn't be able to get as short with them, he knew, but he thought it was looking better.

Finally, he decided there wasn't anything else he could do. He left it longer in the front, like Dean's, and tried to go shorter on the sides and in the back. He didn't know what the back looked like. He saw odd, straight lines going jagged all around his head and thought hopefully that they wouldn't look as bad after he'd washed his hair and it dried on its own. He thought it looked... better. It looked like Dean, maybe still a little too thick and curlier than he was expecting.

Sam turned on the water in the tub and stuck his head up under the facet, quickly messing his hair up all around and trying to get loose hairs out so it wasn't as itchy. Then, he took a big hunk of toilet paper and wetted it a little before scooping up all the hair on the sink and floor around him. After he'd cleaned up as much as he could, he went out and into his and Dean's bedroom and dug in his drawer for a new shirt.

As he was changing, he heard the front door open and shut. Nervous again, he reached up to tug on that piece of hair above his right ear, and realized that it was gone. He laughed quickly at himself, and he felt like everything inside him was buzzing, so instead he pushed his hand through the hair he had left.

"Sammy, you here?" Dean called from in the kitchen, where he was banging around in the fridge and cabinets.

Before he could second guess himself too much, he charged out into the hallway and all the way up to where Dean was.

"Here," He said loudly, causing Dean to jump, bang a bowl against the milk jug he had out, and turn around.

"Whoa, Sammy, you scared -" Dean stopped when he caught sight of his brother and - more importantly - his hair. Suddenly, Dean let out a chuckle. "Sammy?"

Sam glowered at his older brother and crossed his arms. "What, Dean?" He asked.

"N-nothing, dude." Dean answered quickly. "What's up? Anything fun happen while I was gone?"

"Shut up, Dean." He lifted his hand to pull at his hair and then forcibly put it back down at his side, angry.

"Hay, listen, seriously." Dean started forward. "A new haircut is just a little.. unexpected, you know? I mean the way you fought when dad tried made me think you'd go Rapunzel on us." Sam threw Dean an almighty glare and returned his comment with silence. "Ok, so are you going to tell me about the sudden change of heart, or are we just going to pretend like nothing happened?"

"I-jswannedt'belkyu." Sam muttered quietly. Dean stared at him.

"Huh?"

"I'm sick of being weird, ok?"

Dean started snickering again. "No hope for you there, Sammy -"

"No, I'm serious, Dean. I'm the weird new kid at school, in all my classes, in every restaurant, any motel, any team I'm on, I'm always the weird little chubby dorky kid who's just there all of a sudden. I'm different than everybody and most people don't even know how different I am and I'm just done, ok? I'm done, and I want to stop being different in at least one place. If I can't fit into my own family, where can I fit in?" His fingers were scratching over his scalp, but he still couldn't get a grip on his newly cut hair. At the very top of his head he'd left hair long enough that he could just barely pull on it, and it helped him bite down on emotions threatening to well up.

Dean was watching him sympathetically, but looked a little lost at the same time. "Sammy," He began uncertainly. "I get that it's rough. But... You didn't have to chop your hair off. Dad gives you crap for it, maybe, but it doesn't mean all that much to him. Just because you've got your own crazy-ass quirks about stuff doesn't make you not my little brother. Trying to get rid of the quirks makes you... less my little brother than otherwise."

"You used a double negative and that doesn't even make sense, Dean." Sam sniffed indignantly, but with a bit less bravado.

"See? Like that." Dean pointed out, grinning. "You're gonna be different, okay? Don't sweat it. You can wear your hair how you like it."

Sam nodded, a little sheepish. They stood in silence before Dean started laughing at him again.

"What _now_?" Sam asked.

"Y-your hair covered up - dude, your ears are _huge_." The older boy's laugh worked up to a full bellied cackle and Sam growled.

"You laugh like Woody the Woodpecker and you're a stupid jerk," Sam yelled at him, punching Dean in the stomach and then running away. Running without his hair made his ears cold, but Dean was coming after him so it wasn't like he had much time to dwell on it.


End file.
